A Twisted Bit of Plot & characters
by PiccoloFrivolous
Summary: A fiesty new character forces the Brookies into the strike, and gives Davey a run for his money....(DJOC)
1. A WellKnown Scene

**A Twisted Bit of** **Plot**** (Not to mention Characters...)**

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**Plot and OC: Mine—Newsies: Disney's, perhaps. Not mine.**

**A/Ns: These are basically going to be little vignettes involving my original character, and what would have happened if she had forced the Brookies to go into the strike when first to think of it, we just would lose a fight scene. Whatever. I love her to freakin' death, and there needs to be a bit romance between a certain leading Newsie, verdad? Si. First person POV, by the way. On with the story.**

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Three boys, supposedly the Cowboy, Boots, and an unknown kid with a highbrow look about him, walked down the docks with obvious trepidation. Absorbed in searching for someone (with rumors flying, most likely Spot), they didn't notice the rangy figure that shadowed them from the rafters. Fortunately, the Brooklyn leader knew the construction site he called 'home' better than they nervous trio, and they were saved the trouble.

"Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick."

Cowboy's identity established, he remained unaffected by the smaller boy's biting tone. Smart move.

"I see ya moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view 'n everything."

Except for the intense glare and worn sling, the Brooklyn leader was just like any other Newsie out there—Brown vest, brown pants, brown boots. The two boys spit-shake, and Spot nodded in younger kid's direction. As the boy in blue was a newcomer, with a highbrow look no less, he wasn't entitled to a greeting.

"Heya Boots, How's it rollin'?"

Ah. Definitely Boots. But the third boy, who stepped into to light to get a better look at the notorious Brookie, retained the cultured look—azure silk-cotton vest, starched shirt, woven breeches. Odd for this part of town—Well, for any part of town being accompanied by two Newsies.

"So, Jacky-boy, I've been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin' in my ear. Jacky-boy's Newsies is playing like they're going on strike."

Once again, Jack remained cool, never taking the bait of Spot's mocking tone.

"Well, we are goin' on strike."

Cool, until the blue boy stepped in. Not smart. His tone was defiant, defensive

"We're not playing, we _are _going on strike."

Which made one hope, for his sake, that he had a defense. Spot took him up on his audacity, turning on the aggression. Which meant he was either amused or preparing to get very, very angry if the boy in blue came out without answers.

"Yeah? What is this Jacky-boy, some kinda walkin' mouth?"

"Yeah, he's a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got 'alf of one, you'll listen to what he's got to say."

The momentarily panicked look gave the impression that whatever Blueboy was about to say was a bit unrehearsed.

"Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we're talking to Newsies all around the city."

"Yeah, that's what they told me. But what'd they tell you?"

"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous Newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean…well, you gotta!"

Well, unrehearsed perhaps, but the kid certainly had a talent for improv. Especially flattery, must've taken a note outta Jack's book. And from Jack's smug look, he had, and believed he had the Brookie Newsie in his pocket.

Spot may be a kid, but he's proud enough that you never, ever assume. Or perhaps he just has a thick head. Either way, assumption is unwise…

"You're right Jacky-boy, brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half of one. How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?"

The stricken look on Blueboy's face, and the determined, frustrated one on Jack's was saddening. But the proud, conceited look on Spot's was simply infuriating.

Swinging down from the rafters, I landed in between the trio and Spot, facing the Brookie.

"Spot Conlin, now is _not _tha time to be a dull-witted, pompous lil' sewabrat! Have ya even thought 'bout tha consequences if ya'll win? Or rather, if ya don't join and they win? If ya had that half a brain you're so high-n-mighty 'bout, you'd join the strike. Or else…"

I smiled sweetly, showing as many teeth as possible.

"Ah'll make them."

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**So, there you go. Introducing my girl in the next chapter, either Davey's POV or third person. If you read this, please, please review. It keeps me going. If you have plot, scene, or character ideas, _do not review with them_. EMAIL them to me: Thanks ya'll!**

**-Kestrel**


	2. With Boots And Bite, She Came

**A Twisted Bit of Plot; Chapter 2: With Boots and Bite, She Came**

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**A/N: Kay kinders, Chappie 2. Hope you like it!**

**WARNING: I didn't think this out very well, and after the explanation of thenext chapter, the plot has evaded me. Ideas or anything, EMAIL, I'll probably use them, and of course will give credit. Tell me if you like me char, too. Ella es muy vivo, verdad? Goce!**

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Spot's brief expression of shock was replaced quickly by his cool, sharp exterior. He grinned savagely, his tone clipped and cruel.

"Well, if it ain't the resident tramp," he snarled, spitting at her feet.

The girl, only visible to the boys by a long coat, a mane of red-wine hair barely restrained by what may have once been a kerchief, and a silky southern accent only snorted.

"Ah'm not in tha mood for games, Conlin. You know as well as Ah do that Ah can get those boys rallied up behind tha strike just as well as you can. In fact," she smiled, a malicious grin evident in her tone, "Perhaps Ah can do it better, eh boy?"

The 'boy' went slightly pale under his working tan, and sneered. "You know," he stepped around the female, who remained placed, hands on her hips. "Who knows what'll come of this strike." The thought lit up his expression in a calculating way, displacing the irritation, "Count Brooklyn in."

Finally, the girl turned to face the three. She seemed to be an odd cross between a pirate and a jockey, with tight black boots and dark olive leggings, loose white shirt, and a heavy brown trench coat that seemed three sizes too big. Her face, hawk-like and spattered with freckles, expressed a quiet, confident aloofness.

Jack, who seemed to be slightly taken aback, found his tongue. "Rian, good to see you again." He cleared his throat, gesturing towards Boots and David. "These are— "

She interrupted abruptly, gray eyes glittering with detached intelligence, and perhaps, amusement?

"Ah know very well who ya'll are. Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly, fugitive and one of the most slippery newsies of 'York, Boots, former World News employee, and—" She stopped speaking, and stepped to face David, no smile evident on her face as she examined him from an equal height. Her left hand, shorn nails, creases and tiny scars visible, flashed out to gently turn his cheek to her, and disappeared into her voluminous just as quickly.

Her eyebrows were raised in what could have been displeasure or conceit. "David Jacobs. What _are _you doin' so far from home, boy?" An amused smile traced its way across her lips.

Obviously unnerved, he moved into a more defensive stance, fists clenched.

"What's that supposed to mean? And how do you know my name?"

The smile turned into a reckless grin, eyes sparkling with the mischief of choosing what to answer, and generally confusing malekind.

"A good magician nevah explains their illusions."

She winked coyly, leapt into the rafters, and disappeared with the last of the daylight.

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**So, good, yes? Ria is one of my three favorite original characters. Anyhoo, I'm not sure how the plot would go, factoring that Davey now knows that Jack's a fugitive, and the Brookies have joined the fight.**

**Originally, Ria was going to make a really insultive remark, and David was going to jump her, and she was going to majorly kick his highbrow ass, but I didn't want to establish her fighting abilities yet, or have her be that cruel. If I ever do an alternate, this will probably take place though.**

**Want more? **


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